Unveiled Read online

  other people in Miller’s flat who could have been responsible for the defacing of his table. The look of horror on his face is like a reality check. What the hell have I just done? His eyes are wide and disbelieving as he carries his naked body to the table, his mouth agape as he scans the area. Then he picks up a plate and looks at the circle. Then a glass. Then a fork.

  I chew madly on the inside of my cheek, bracing myself for the imminent meltdown. His bare arse hits the chair and his hand delves into his hair. ‘Olivia.’ Disturbed eyes lift to mine. He looks like he’s seen a ghost. ‘You’ve scribbled all over my table.’

  I look to the table and lift my thumb to my mouth, transferring my chewing to my thumbnail. This is silly. It’s a table. Anyone would think someone had died. On an exasperated sigh, I throw the Sharpie to the side and approach the table, where Miller is back to lifting items to see if I really have marked everything. I’m not sure whether to confirm it or leave him to continue examining to discover it for himself. ‘I’ve made our lives easier.’

  He looks at me like I’ve grown horns. ‘Really?’ He drops a plate and I smile when he pokes it roughly until it’s within the guidelines. ‘Please, elaborate on that.’

  ‘Well . . .’ I take a seat next to him and think of how I can word it so he’ll appreciate it. Now I’m being silly. This is Miller Hart. My obsessive fruitcake. ‘Now I can lay the table so there’s no risk of your sweet girl screwing up your –’ I purse my lips – ‘particular ways.’

  ‘Sweet girl?’ He looks at me incredulously. ‘You are far from sweet, Olivia. Right now you’re akin to the fucking devil! Why would . . . what the . . . Oh, Jesus, look at it!’ He waves his arm around aimlessly, then drops his elbows to the table and buries his face in his palms. ‘I can’t look.’

  ‘Now I can set the table just how you like it.’ I avoid saying need. This is how he needs it. ‘It’s the lesser of two evils.’ Reaching over, I take his hand so his head is no longer supported and he has to look at me. ‘Either I constantly fuck it up, or you just get used to this.’ I indicate the table on a smile. This may be an overreaction, but it’s one time. He’ll grow to accept the outlines. The alternative is a mini seizure each time I set the table. It’s a no-brainer to me.

  ‘You are the only evil thing around here, Olivia. Just you.’

  ‘Look at it as art.’

  He scoffs at that suggestion and shifts my grip so he now has hold of me. ‘It’s a fucking mess, that’s what it is.’

  My body sags in my chair, and I catch him looking at me out of the corner of his eye, all sulky. Over a table? ‘Is it replaceable?’

  ‘Yes,’ he grumbles. ‘Good fucking job, too. Wouldn’t you agree?’

  ‘Well, I’m not replaceable, and I’m not spending a lifetime with you, constantly worrying whether I’ve put a stupid plate in the right place.’

  He recoils at my harshness, but come on! I’ve been more than accommodating with his obsessive habits. Yes, he’s eased up on a few, but there’s still work to do, and since Miller refuses to openly admit he suffers severely from obsessive-compulsive disorder, and point-blank refuses to see a therapist, then he’ll just have to get used to my way of helping him. And helping myself at the same time, too.

  ‘It’s no big shakes.’ He forces indifference to within an inch of his life.

  ‘No big shakes?’ I ask, laughing. ‘Miller, your world is currently experiencing an earthquake of epic proportions!’ He virtually snarls, increasing my amusement. ‘Now –’ I stand and pull my hand free – ‘do you want breakfast, or are you going to refuse, since you didn’t witness me making it how you like it?’

  ‘There’s no need for insolence.’

  ‘Yes, there is.’ I leave my grumpy man at the table to fetch my bowl of melted chocolate, hearing him muttering and shifting crockery. ‘Oh,’ I breathe, looking down into the bowl that resembles nothing like the delicious dark puddle of chocolate that Miller created.

  Picking up the wooden spoon, I have a little poke and lose my grip of the handle when the spoon gets suck in the semi-hard goo. I’m pouting when my body lights up, and I know it’s because he’s on his way over to investigate. The heat of his chest meets my back and his chin falls to my shoulder. ‘I have a request,’ he speaks right into my ear, making my shoulder rise and my head push into his face in a vain attempt to halt the tingles that have started to assault my body.

  ‘What?’ I reclaim the spoon and try to stir.

  ‘Please don’t make me eat that.’

  My whole body deflates, disappointment replacing the tingles. ‘What did I do wrong?’

  The spoon is taken from my hand and left to rest in the bowl before he turns me in his arms. All dismay has vanished. Now I’m the butt of his amusement. ‘You spent too long vandalising my table, so the chocolate has set.’ He’s smug. ‘I’m afraid there will be no licking chocolate from body parts.’

  I really am hopeless. I realise it’s silly, given that I’ve just wrecked his table in the process, but I wanted to do this trivial thing, because it isn’t so trivial in Miller’s world. ‘I’m sorry,’ I sigh, letting my forehead drop onto his chest.

  ‘You’re forgiven.’ His arms curl around my back and he presses his lips to the top of my head. ‘How about we abandon breakfast for today?’

  ‘Fine.’

  ‘We’ll veg. All day. Then have brunch.’

  I cringe. I knew that would be his plan. Lock us away to protect me from his world. There’s no way, not when Nan’s coming home today. ‘I’m picking Nan up from the hospital at four.’

  ‘I’ll collect her,’ he offers, but I know exactly what he’s doing. There’s no way I’m going to be kept from Nan. ‘And I’ll bring her back here.’

  ‘We’ve been over this. She needs to be in her own home, in her own bed, with everything she knows around her. She won’t like it here.’ I break away and head from the kitchen, not prepared to allow him to even try and talk me down. It’ll be a waste and will result in a row. After last night, I expect he’ll be unbearably protective.

  ‘What’s wrong with here?’ he asks, insulted.

  I swing around, a little mad that he would be so obtuse where Nan is concerned. ‘Because it’s not home!’ I spit, and a small part of me is wondering if he truly does want me here polluting his flat with my messy ways or if he’s so desperate to keep me from harm’s way that he’ll even torture himself by having me and Nan permanently here.

  The hurt is visible instantaneously, and I snap my mouth shut before I twist the knife some more. ‘I see,’ he says coldly.

  ‘Miller, I—’

  ‘No, it’s fine.’ He walks past me, ensuring he doesn’t touch me. I feel like all kinds of shit as I let my back fall to the wall and gaze up to the high ceilings of his flat. I’ve hurt his feelings. He’s trying to help. He’s worried about me, and I’m being a total bitch.

  Reaching up and pinching the bridge of my nose, I groan my frustration before I go after him. ‘Miller,’ I call, watching his back disappear into the bedroom. ‘Miller, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.’

  He’s yanking all of his bedsheets into place when I enter, being rough and stroppy. ‘I said it’s fine.’

  ‘Clearly,’ I sigh, my arms falling lifelessly to my sides. I’d go over and help, an olive branch in the form of Miller-style tidying, but I know I’ll only piss him off further when I get it all wrong.

  ‘You don’t want to live here.’ He plumps the pillows and glides careful palms across the top. ‘I accept that. I don’t have to like it, but I accept it.’ The silk runner is practically tossed onto the bed and he starts pulling and huffing it into position. I watch silently, a little surprised by his juvenile, stroppy behaviour. He’s pissed off. Not angry or looking on the brink of psychotic, just plain slighted. ‘Fuck it!’ he shouts, grabbing at the perfected sheets and tossing them across the bed. He collapses to his arse on the edge and throws his hands into his hair, breathing heavy. ‘I want you in my
arms every night.’ He looks up at me, his eyes pleading. ‘I need to keep you safe.’

  I pad over to him, his eyes following me until I’m looking down at him. He spreads his thighs, giving me room to move in. My hands rest on his shoulders, his on my bottom. Looking up at me, he sighs and swallows hard, then lets his forehead fall to my tummy. My hands climb the sides of his neck and thread into his hair.

  ‘I realise I sound needy and demanding,’ he whispers. ‘It’s not just because I’m worried. I’ve got so used to waking up with you and falling asleep with you. You’re the last thing I see before I close my eyes and you’re the first thing I see when I open them. The thought of not having that doesn’t sit well with me, Olivia.’

  I immediately comprehend his issue. We’ve not been separated for weeks. New York was a constant carousel of worshipping, things, and indulging in each other. We’re back to real life now. I smile sadly, unsure of what to say or do to make him feel better. Wild horses won’t keep me away from Nan. ‘She needs me,’ I murmur.

  ‘I know.’ He looks up at me and tries his hardest to bless me with one of his smiles. Tries. The worry awash his features won’t allow it to push through. ‘I wish I could control my need for you.’

  I do and don’t want him to control that need. ‘Need for me or need to ensure my safety?’ I ask, because that’s what matters here. I’m well aware of what’s beyond Miller’s front door.

  ‘Both.’

  I nod my acceptance of his answer and pull in a steady lungful of air. ‘You have always promised never to make me do something you know I don’t want to do.’

  He clenches his eyes shut and purses his lips. ‘I’m beginning to regret that.’

  My lips stretch into a smile. I know he does. ‘This isn’t an argument you’ll win. The only solution is you coming to stay with us.’

  His eyes snap open, and I rein in my grin, knowing the issue here. ‘How am I supposed to worship you at your grandmother’s house?’

  ‘You managed just fine the other day.’ I raise my eyebrows, loving his blues darkening before my eyes as he obviously mentally runs through our encounter on the stairs. On a slight scowl, he applies pressure to my bum and hauls me forward.

  ‘She wasn’t in residence.’

  ‘You make her sound like royalty!’

  ‘Well, isn’t she?’

  I huff my agreement and bend to get our faces level. ‘I’ve given you your options, Mr Hart. I’m going home with Nan. Would you do me the honour of joining me?’ I’m delighted when his eyes win a bit of sparkle and his lips twitch terribly.

  ‘I will,’ he mutters, trying to be grumpy when I know his illusive playfulness is fighting to break free. ‘It’ll be pure hell, but I’ll do anything for you, Olivia Taylor, including vowing to refrain from touching you.’

  ‘You don’t need to do that!’

  ‘I beg to differ,’ he says calmly, standing and lifting me to his waist. My ankles lock around his lower back as my face screws up in displeasure. ‘I’m not about to disrespect your grandmother.’

  ‘She threatened to sever your manhood, remember?’ I remind him, hoping to rid his conscience of this silly matter.

  His brow furrows beautifully. I’m getting him. ‘I concur, but now she’s ill.’

  ‘Which means she’ll struggle to catch you.’

  He loses the battle to contain his amusement and blinds me with one of his heart-stopping smiles. ‘I love hearing you scream my name when I make you come. That’s not going to be possible. I don’t want your nan thinking I have no respect for her and her home.’

  ‘Then I’ll whisper it in your ear.’

  ‘Is my sweet girl’s sass coming out to play?’

  I shrug nonchalantly. ‘Is the man I love pretending to be a gentleman again?’

  He inhales sharply, like I’ve shocked him. I’m not buying it. ‘I’m offended.’

  I lean in and bite the end of his nose. Then I lick a slow, wet trail up to his ear. I can feel his heart rate increase under my chest. ‘Then teach me a lesson,’ I whisper, low and seductively into his ear before I bite down on his lobe.

  ‘I’m under obligation to do so.’ In a fast string of expert moves, he shifts his grip and flings me onto the bed.

  ‘Miller!’ I squeal as I coast through the air, my arms flailing in shock. I land in the centre of his huge bed, gasping through my laugh as I attempt to win my bearings. I find him, standing at the edge of the bed, still and calm, looking at me like I’m his next meal. My heavy breathing rockets and I shift, trying to sit myself up as he watches me, his eyes all hooded and oozing desire.

  ‘Come to me, sweet girl,’ he says, his voice rough. It increases my heart rate further.

  ‘No.’ I shock myself with my refusal. I want to go to him. Desperately. I don’t know why I said that, and judging by the mild surprise creeping onto his face, Miller’s shocked, too.

  ‘Come. To. Me.’ He spells out each word, warning lacing his low tone.

  ‘No,’ I whisper teasingly, edging back a little, distancing myself from him. This is a game. A hunt. I want him badly, but knowing how badly he wants me is upping the ante, increasing our desire to a point that’s difficult to cope with . . . which makes the catch and kill so much more satisfying.

  Miller’s head tilts and his eyes twinkle. ‘Playing hard to get?’

  I shrug and glance over my shoulder to plot my escape. ‘I don’t feel like any Miller-worshipping right now.’

  ‘That’s a preposterous claim, Olivia Taylor. I know it and you know it.’ He steps forward and gazes down at the apex of my thighs. ‘I can smell how ready you are for me.’

  I wither on the spot, clenching my thighs shut, shifting in a vain attempt to hold off the want ripping through me. ‘I can see how ready you are.’ I centre my attention on his cock, visibly pulsing before my eyes.

  He reaches over to the bedside cabinet and slides a condom out slowly, takes it to his lips slowly, and rips it open with his teeth slowly. Then he watches me as he slides it down his hard shaft. That look is debilitating enough. It turns my blood into molten lava and my mind to mush.

  ‘Come. To. Me.’

  I shake my head, wondering why the hell I’m resisting. I’m about to explode. I keep my eyes on his, watching for his next move, seeing him widening his stance a little. I creep back some more.

  A mild shake of his head, knocking his curl into place, and a minute curve of his mouth catapults my need. My whole damn body is visibly vibrating. I can’t control it. And I don’t want to. Anticipation is sending me crazy with desire, and it’s my entire fault. He purposely, threateningly jerks forward and watches with amusement as I jump back on a little gasp. ‘Play all you like, Olivia. I’m going to be buried inside of you within ten seconds.’

  ‘We’ll see,’ I counter cockily, but before I can anticipate his next move, he’s barrelling towards me. Fast. ‘Shit!’ I yelp, and spin over, crawling to the edge of the bed urgently, but he grabs my ankle and yanks, spinning me to my back. I’m panting in his face as he cages me in with his body, breathing down on me, steady and controlled.

  ‘Is that the best you can do?’ he asks, scanning my face until his eyes land on my lips. He moves in and as soon as I feel the softness of his flesh brush over mine, I fly into action, catching him off guard. He’s on his back in a nanosecond, me straddling his waist, my palms holding his wrists over his head.

  ‘Always be on your guard,’ I breathe into his face before nibbling teasingly on his bottom lip. He groans, pushing his hips up into me, trying to capture my lips. I deny him, making him growl his frustration.

  ‘Touché,’ he quips, rocketing up and taking me back to beneath him. I make a feeble attempt of grabbing at his shoulders, but my hands are intercepted and pinned down. He’s smug, a sanctimonious grin on his otherworldly face. It heightens my sass and my desire. ‘Sweet girl, give up.’

  I yell my frustration and throw everything I have into getting free. My body shoots up and over,
but the feeling of free-falling hijacks my sense of determination. ‘Shit!’ I screech as Miller stealthily spins to his back, just before we come to land on the floor with a thud. There’s no shock or distress from him, and he’s only at the disadvantage for a split second before it’s me on my back again. I yell at myself, allowing the frustration to consume me. I also ignore the suspicion that he’s relenting willingly, letting me feel like I’m getting somewhere, before he regains the power.

  He’s gazing down at my heated face, his eyes wild with passion, one hand holding both of mine over my head. ‘Never act out of frustration,’ he whispers, dipping and taking the tip of my nipple between his teeth. I scream, totally ignoring his advice. I’m so frustrated! ‘Miller!’ I yell, and pointlessly writhe beneath him, tossing my head from side to side as I strive to deal with the pleasure attacking me from every possible angle. ‘Miller, please!’

  His bite drags across my sensitive nub, driving me wild. ‘You wanted to play, Olivia.’ He kisses the tip and spreads my thighs by wrestling his knee between them and forcing them apart. ‘Are you regretting that?’

  ‘Yes!’

  ‘So now you have to beg me to stop.’

  ‘Please!’

  ‘Sweet girl, why do you try to deny yourself of my attention?’

  My jaw tightens. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Neither do I.’ His hips shift and he rams forward, spearing me to maximum. ‘Jesus!’

  His shock invasion catches me by surprise but doesn’t make the full satisfaction any less gratifying. My internal muscles grab on to him with everything they have and I squirm to free my wrists from his iron hold. ‘Let me hold you.’

  ‘Shhh,’ he hushes me as he braces his torso up on his arms, keeping me locked beneath him. ‘We do it my way, Olivia.’